Aftermath: Nick's Recovery Challenge
by krysalys
Summary: This is from each character's POV post Grave Danger, written in response to Peja's WWOMB CSI Challenge. Chapter 1 Warrick maybe someday I'll finish Catherine's. We'll see.


"CSI: Nick's recovery Challenge

After being imprisioned in that plexiglass coffin, the horror of being eaten alive by fire ants, and finally the treat of being splattered over several miles by the bomb, you gotta know Nick's gonna have some issues. I'm thinking the very least a deathly fear of small spaces. Nightmares of the ants, the explosion... you all know what I mean if you watched the show.

Anyway, I'm challenging you to write the recovery. In other words, one or all the CSIs realize Nick's in trouble and goes to his assistance.

Don't care how you take the story, direction wise (a series of the ways each CSI's helps Nick recover would be excellent, though) Just ask that the recovery fic is geared to this ep.

Anyone up for it?

PEJA"

Title: Grave Consequences

Author: krysalys

Web Site: http/home. (general, hetero or slash): General

Pairing/Characters: No pairings

Rating: FRM

Summary: A short series of POV's from each of the major characters post "Grave Danger"

Warnings: Language? Oh hell yeah…

Notes: They don't belong to me, damn it all. No money made from my writing, either.

Acknowledgments: Thanks to Peja, for stimulating my CSI muses

Warrick

It was bad enough that Nick had been stuck in that damned coffin for over half a day. Then the fire ants, and then the fucking bomb… man, that sonofabitch was bound and determined to make sure we couldn't get Nicky back.

If he wasn't already dead, I'd rip that fucker apart with my bare hands.

But then again, I'd have to fight to be first in line.

We thought things were finally going our way when the medics got Nick loaded into the ambulance. Cath and I climbed in, not taking "We only have room for one more" for an answer. Yeah, you just _try_ keeping us outta there.

But then Nick started having trouble breathing. I mean, he was already hyperventilating from all the stress and shock he'd gone through, but then his face _really_ got red. The one medic was getting an IV drip started, and Nick barely had a chance to grunt out my name before he started sounding like one sick bellows. God damn, I almost blew my stack right then and there.

"No! Nicky, dammit, _NO_!" I couldn't help it, yellin' at him like that. Everything we'd gone through to get him back, and then _this_ happens? If you're up there God, you got one helluva big can'a whoop-ass comin' your way when I die. And I _always_ collect on my markers.

So yeah, Nick. He starts choking, and the medic shoves me onto Cath's lap so he can get more room to work on Nick. Cath straddled Nick's feet and braced herself on the back doors to the rig as she screamed at the driver to hurry the hell up. The medic was barely able to get an intubation tube down Nick's throat as a precaution, and by the time he'd got it placed, Nick coded. Then the guy started injecting shit into the IV… epenephrine and antihistamine, I think he said.

God, just remembering this makes my heart jump outta my chest. No wonder most'a us at the lab are on BP meds and limited hours right now.

Anyway, Nick's heart couldn't take the strain any more, so it just up and quit on him. From the look in his eyes right before he passed out, he was less happy than we were about it. (snort) Turns out when he was a kid, Nick'd been screwing around with his brother and sisters on a playground near his house, and on a dare had stirred up an ant hill. But they hadn't known that it was a fire ant mound, it was so small. Well, Nick got bit up pretty good back then, though nothin' like he'd been here, and the docs'd warned his parents that he could develop an allergy from the exposure. Shit, were _they_ ever right.

Man, he coded like three times before we got to the hospital, and damn if the medics literally threw me and Cath out of their way once we were there. I mean, yeah I understand why, but Cath's got a broken foot out of it. She's lucky she didn't crack her head open when she fell.

Okay, okay, focusing here. Well, since you're seeing Nick too, you know how it turned out. He lived, thank God. Took a helluva while for him to get better, though. He still can't sleep without having nightmares from hell. Yeah, I ain't doin' much better here. But we're all taking turns staying with him… about a week each. Greg's been awesome, man. It's weird how much he's been helping Nick out with all of this. I really don't know how those two learned to cope so well. Shit, I'd've blown my frickin' head off if I was in that damned box.

No, don't argue with me, man. You got no idea what it'd be like unless _you_ were in there.

Okay, okay, I see what you mean. Still, I can't shake the guilt, man. Even though I know I wouldn't've lasted as long as Nicky, I'd have traded places with him in a heartbeat. That boy's been through such shit the last 5 years. I don't know how the hell he works through it all. Maybe it's bein' the youngest of all those kids. Yeah, his parents managed to breed like rabbits and _still_ be successful attorneys. (snort) You know, my gramma told me once that God only puts you in situations He knows you can deal with. If that's true, then Nick's a helluva lot stronger than most people realized. I sure know he's stronger'n me, man.

Seriously. No, I ain't kiddin'. That man's my brother, and we're pretty damned competitive, but this is one thing where I _know _he's better than me.

Yeah, I'm having nightmares too. I don't wake up screaming and freaking out like Nick does, but they're still bad. Real bad. You know, all the what-if scenarios. What if we hadn't found Nick? Would he've suffocated first, or died from anaphylactic shock? Or would he've blown his head off? He was about ready to, you know. Right when I'd cleared off that dirt from the box, I saw him with the gun up against his chin. What if I'd taken another… even _5_ seconds? He'd be gone, that's what. And I'd still be apologizing to his parents for not getting to him in time.

Depressed, me? Gee, ya fuckin' think?

So much could've gone wrong. One wrong move, one wrong turn, and Nick would be dead. _Dead_. It would've broken the lab. He's really popular. With the cops too. Some'a us don't work well with the fuzz, but Nick, man, he gets along with everybody. Must be that accent… Bobby in ballistics is from the South too, and he's pretty popular at the lab.

Hey, _you_ try to keep from goin' on tangents on a few hours of sleep a fuckin' night.

Yeah, sorry. You didn't deserve that. Hey, we about done here? I promised Nick that I'd take him to the park today. Yeah, he still has a lot of problems staying indoors. Claustrophobic? He brings a whole new meaning to that term. God, this is such _shit_. He doesn't deserve this. Yeah, he puts on a good face, but it's his eyes, man. They give him away every time. Yeah, well, maybe if you knew him like I do, you'd notice it a little easier. Nick's fightin' tooth and nail to be what he thinks should be "normal," but it's killin' him inside. I'm really worried… I don't think he'll be able to come back to work.

Why? Because the whole damned lab is made of plexi-glass, _that's_ why. You really think he's gonna be able to work in there? Hell, it took Greggo weeks before he could even _look_ at the DNA lab without gettin' the shakes. Sara was the same way, and she only caught the edge of _that_ blast. Jesus, I am so fucking pissed off, and I've _nowhere_ to put it. I do what I can to help Nick out, but every time he gets the shakes, or has a panic attack, all I wanna do is tear into the rat bastard that did this to him. Kinda hard to be supportive when I'm so pissed I literally see red, ya know?

So what do you suggest? I swallow it all down? Bottle it up? Hey, I go to the gym every other day, and beat the living hell outta that punching bag. No one wants to spar with me any more, not since I dislocated that guy's jaw and busted up his cheekbone.

A'course I feel bad about it! He's one'a the best trainers in Vegas, and I put him through a smackdown! (chuckles wryly) Well, at least he had a good sense of humor about it: suggested I should go on the circuit professionally. I told him the only reason I'm this intense is 'cause my best friend almost died.

Yeah, took the wind right outta _those_ sails.

Shit, is it time already? So, same time next week? Yeah, yeah, I know I can call you any time, but hell, you got so many'a us comin' to see you, ya gotta have some down time too. Right?

Hey, thanks doc. See ya round.


End file.
